My continuing love hate relationship with technology is stated below. I started all this on my phone, and it just continued.
I’m happy I didn’t live a hundred years ago. I probably would have went insane by now. Don’t get me wrong, those times have a lot of things going for them, fresher air, cleaner water, but I don’t think I would be able to not sink into a depression without my outlets.
This blog, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, all of them help me keep my sanity, and also afford me a constant blow horn.
If I’m frustrated, I can come vent it here rather than picking fights with people. If I’m feeling lonely I can come and read the support of others struggling with my plight. All of it helps to make things easier to deal with.
A hundred years ago, I would have struggled to make it as a writer. No smartphone to carry in my pocket to quickly jot down notes. No PC waiting eagerly for my fingers to come and stimulate it. Just me and my sloppy ass handwriting that even I can’t read half the time.
I started thinking on this when a topic came onto the #SupportIndieAuthors (Awesome topic by the way Chris) board on Goodreads. It was a wonderful topic full of great advice for those who doubt themselves. While there was a lot of great information there, one phrase really stuck out. V.M. Sawh said “Trust in your vision.”
Now that statement is open to broad interpretation, and yet it’s so simply stated.
You need to trust in yourself! Understand what you’ve seen/read/heard is completely different than what anyone else has. So trust your lying eyes. Listen to the auditory hallucinations that assault your ears. Look around for the phantom farter that fills your nose with rotten egg smell….and write.
I get chills when I write something I like. I mean, I write a lot of stuff that never sees the light of day. I’ll start it, examine it, shake my head at it, and hit that backspace key until it’s gone.
I do that not because I’m a perfectionist, but because I just know. When my spine is tingling, and my heart is racing because I’m in that character’s shoes. When I smell the pleasant aromas of a diner, even though I’m sitting outside in my backyard. I can tell when a scene works and when it doesn’t.
That’s not to say I don’t have self doubt. I doubt all the time, but I also believe in myself and strive to be everything that I can be. That’s all we can do in life, let alone as writers.
I never would have pictured myself as an author growing up. Yes, I loved to read, I STILL love to read, but I was never one to really put stories down. I didn’t write unless a class forced me to, and I never wrote one word more than I needed to. If a teacher asked for 500-600 words, I gave her 499, just because.
Now I find myself getting ready to start a sixth book, writing two at the same time. I even have plans for three or four more, with more ideas coming to me every day. When I started, my fear was that no one would want to read my work. When I quit worrying about it, everything seemed to fall into place. When you write for yourself, you’re sure to find at least one person in this world that will appreciate it.
But even when I know it’s working, I know it still needs work. The parts of school I should have paid attention to, grammar, syntax, punctuation, they elude me even to this day. I struggle constantly to master what should get easier with practice.
It does get better though, I’m sure the people who edit for me will attest to that. I still use too many words to describe some actions, make it seem like one character is doing the action rather than the character I want to do it. That’s where my self doubt comes in. Struggling to move the pieces exactly as they need to be. That’s why I’m happy for Sara. You all think I joke when I say it, but she translates what I write. I’ll write it, read it, understand it perfectly. Show it to someone else and they say, “What the fuck is that gibberish?”
But Sara translates, smooths it over, gives it some extra panache. You can think of it as a contractor and a interior designer working together. I go in, put up walls, paint them the right color, give them a little bit of texture and character, then Sara follows behind and works her magic. Before I know it, what starts as a rough draft is on it’s journey to being a book. There’s nothing more satisfying, nothing that makes you feel more powerful, than knowing you control lives in your hands. They may be fictional lives, but they’re your lives.
Think of it this way. I wrote this story for me, and when I told my mother about it, she REFUSED to read it because of the zombies. I can’t blame her, some people just can’t hang with it. And honestly, with the controversial start I have, I’m not sure if I want her to listen to or read it. I don’t think she’ll look at her son the same way.
At the same time, I’m so excited. My roommate heard me listening to the audio preview the other night, and busted into my room he found it so intense. Afterwards, he stared at me dumbstruck. “You did that?”
I did that.
Just for the hell of it, I’m throwing on a weight loss update. Still maintaining my weight, first winter without weight gain! Now I’m hoping summer will help me burn off more pounds.
Just something I was sitting here contemplating, waiting for my computer held together with bailing wire, duct tape, and bubble gum to finish it’s restoring process.